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Talk:The Mod: Collaboration/@comment-5215732-20120708020744/@comment-5216029-20120708144734
Jal's char-sheet? Sure, it should be here somewhere... Name: Jal Wolfsbane Age: 57 Race: Nord Height: 6"2 BIrthsign: The Steed Appearance: Grey, which runs down to his neck, pulled back into a pony-tail. Once fit, strong and athletic, age has taken its toll. While still fit and broad of chest and shoulder, Jal is not the man he used to be. He walks with a limp. - and he uses a sturdy walking stick to support himself. He has a weather worn face, strong laugh-lines around his mouth and his eyes. His face, once possibly passably attractive, has suffered by years of battle. He once took an axe to the face leaving his left eye blind and his left cheekbone shattered, as well as a deep, crooked scar running from his left temple, through his eye to the corner of his mouth. His nose it flat from being broken more times than he cares to remember. He also is the proud bearer of a number of other scars and tattoos, signalling the various armies and mercenary groups he has sold his sword to. Class: Barbarian. (Retired - wants to set up his own inn now.) Skills: One handed, block, heavy armour. He can also cook pretty well. Clothing/ Armour: Jal sold his old armour to make up the gold he needed to set up an inn in Valton. His only clothing item of note is a large, wolf fur cloak, with a hood and a gold chain that links the cloak across his chest. Weapons: Again, Jal sold them so he could move to Valton. His only weapon now is his walking stick which also doubles as a cudgel. Miscellaneous items: (nothing I can think of right now) Personality: Jal was once a ball of fury, eager for battle and glory but age has tempered him. Now he is satisfied with a warm fire, mead, and good company. He drinks. Probably too much, maybe to forget his past life. He can be both quiet and introspective or loud and boisterous. Major flaw: Addicted to the drink, partially crippled. Background: Mother a censored, Irik grew up street urchin on the docks of the Imperial city. When he was 10, he was picked up by a captain of a trading vessel and spent the next 10 years at sea, sailing around Tamriel. During one particularly ferocious storm, the crew were shipwrecked off the northern coast of Skyrim. With their captain dead, Jal (to whom the captain had become a father), the crew fell of a life of banditry as they struggled to survive in the cold, harsh land. It didn't go well. After a 6 months wondering the northern reaches of Skyrim, more than half the crew had died of starvation, sickness, or had simply frozen to death. One night, a pack of wolves, sensing an easy meal, attacked their camp. Jal fought like a man possessed, killing a number of wolves. Only 3 of the crew survived the attack, but those that remained gave him a new name - Wolfsbane. They ate well that night. For the next 20 odd years, Jal has roamed Skyrim. He found some solace in the Companions, who paid well for his sword and gave him a home, family, mead and food. Once Jal found out their terrible secret, however, he quickly left. Without the protection of the Companions, Jal was easy prey, and the Silverhand ambushed him as he was making his way to Marketh - where he had heard a sellsword might earn a decent living. In the fight that followed, Jal face was split open by an axe and he was left for dead. Whether it was the gods that saved him, or sheer luck, Jal could not say but he woke up in a log cabin with an old healer tending his wounds. After spending 6 months recovering, Jal made it to Marketh and joined the city guard, where in a battle against the Forsworn, his knee was smashed open by a mace - ending Jal's career as a warrior.